Out the Front Door
by mrsmichaelamalfoy
Summary: Draco Malfoy has to choose between the love of his life and his inheritance. His decision leaves him going out the front door. One-Shot. Dramione. Hermione is only mentioned in this one-shot.


This is a one shot written under inspiration from the May writing club in the forum:

forum/Hogwarts-School-of-Witchcraft-Wizardry-Challenges-Assignments/157448/

It is the eighth quote from Bex's Basement: "When did it go wrong?" / "For me to answer that, it would have had to have gone right at some point and it really didn't."

I'm not certain if it will count for anything as I am still on my trial run, but I read that quote and couldn't help the plot bunny that came up with it.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

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Draco sat on the edge of his seat, a bottle of aged muggle whiskey dangling carelessly from his right hand. His left arm was holding the weight of his head, his shoulders holding the weight of the world. Luckily for him, Malfoy Manor was a large estate, with plenty of places to wait out his father's anger. He was twenty-four years old and still afraid of his own father. At that thought, Draco brought the bottle up to his lips and took a harsh swig, his throat no longer caring to burn as the liquid went down. If his father saw the muggle bottle, it would just be another reason for his rage. But honestly, at this point, what did that matter? His father's wrath would not be quenched, and neither would Draco's need for the blasted drink.

He heard footsteps approaching from behind him, but there was no need for concern as the distinct sound of his father's walking stick tapping against the marble floor was missing from the light echo, neither was there the soft click-clack of his mother's heels. He felt a heavy hand on his shoulder and sighed in frustration. Hermione must have told Blaise where he was at, worried about the amount of time that had passed by.

"What are you doing here, Blaise?" Draco softly questioned, not even bothering to look up to confirm his identity.

"Ms. Know-It-All told me," he replied, sitting down across from Draco, pulling the bottle of alcohol from his hands. Blaise inspected the label for a moment before taking a tentative sip of the poison. "Bloody hell," he said, his eyes watering. "How do you drink that, mate?"

Draco responded with an empty glare towards his friend, grabbing back the bottle. He took another drink, not even flinching. "How did you get in?"

"The front door," Blaise simply said.

Draco scoffed, rolling his eyes at his arrogant friend, gulping more of the liquid down. "Of course," he muttered.

"Why didn't you think to use the front door?" Blaise questioned, raising a quizzical brow at his best mate.

Draco looked at his friend. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"I mean, why didn't you just leave?"

"Blaise," he sighed, rubbing his eyes with his free hand. "You know it's not that simple."

"How come?"

Draco stood up in frustration, swaying slightly on his feet. "He told me if I left, he would disinherit me," he said, belching at the end.

Blaise scrunched up his nose in disgust. He snatched the bottle from Draco's hands, vanishing it with a wave of his wand. "I'm cutting you off, mate," he said, standing up from his seat. He lightly pushed Draco back down into his chair.

"I wasn't done with that," Draco said, attempting to stand back up. Another push from his friend had the room spinning as he landed back on his bottom. He rested his head on his hands, willing to keep his dinner in his stomach.

"No, I think you were," Blaise said, patting his shoulder before sitting back down. He leaned over, balancing his elbows on his knees. "Seriously. What are you still doing here?"

"He's going to take it all away if I go," he whispered, voice cracking with emotion.

"And you're going to lose it all if you stay," Blaise said. "You're going to lose everything important to you if you don't walk out that front door right now and never look back."

"And what about this?" Draco questioned. "Is this not important, too?" Draco gestured around him. "My heritage. My family legacy. That's what I'm giving up."

"Nobody," Blaise began, "can take away your last name, not even your father. You're always going to be a Malfoy, inheritance or no inheritance. Look around you, Draco. You'll have all of this, but nobody to share it with."

"I'll have someone to share it with," Draco said bitterly. "Father will make sure I have an heir before he is dead."

"Fine. Then let me correct myself. You won't have the one person you want to share it with."

"Hermione. I won't have Hermione," he said, brokenness evident in his voice.

"I don't understand," Blaise said. "I thought the plan was to slowly introduce Hermione to your family. I thought you were just supposed to suggest an invitation to the New Years' Ball for the golden trio tonight during dinner? What went wrong?"

"For me to answer that," Draco sighed, "it would have had to have gone right at some point and it really didn't."

"He already knew, didn't he?" Blaise asked, fairly certain he already knew the answer.

Draco nodded. "He already knew," he confirmed quietly.

"Then I guess you really never stood a chance," Blaise said.

"No, I didn't," Draco said, rubbing his eyes. "Maybe we never really stood a chance."

"You and Hermione?" Blaise questioned. "Mate, she's the best thing that has ever happened you. Isn't she worth that chance?"

Draco rubbed his eyes. "What am I supposed to do?"

"You know the way out," Blaise stated, leaning back into his chair, crossing his arms against his chest.

"You think I should go, then?" he questioned uncertainly.

"I think you know you should go, but you're scared," Blaise said. "You're scared to make your own way in this world, but you can do it, Draco."

"Where am I supposed to go?" Draco asked, defeated.

"Well if the bookworm doesn't take you in, you'll always have a place at my flat. You know that." Blaise was met with a silence for a few moments.

"_For what shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul_," Draco quoted.

"The Bible? Really?" Blaise asked, furrowing his slightly bushy brows.

Draco shrugged. "Hermione likes to go to church every once in a while. It reminds her of her parents."

"If she can get you to go to muggle church, mate, then I think you know what you have to pick," Blaise said.

"Hermione. I have to pick Hermione," Draco said, staggering a bit as he stood.

Blaise stood up and place a steadying hand on his shoulder. "No way. Take the money," he said sarcastically.

Draco chuckled. "Thank you," he said sincerely.

"Anytime," Blaise said. He let out a sigh and slapped Draco on the back. "Well, you ready to go?"

Draco looked around, taking in his surroundings. "I am," he confirmed with a nod. "I'm ready to go."

"Come on," Blaise said. "Let's get you to your witch."

The two men walked silently through the empty halls of the manor, Draco occasionally pointing out places here and there where a fond memory of his had taken place. As the two drew closer to the foyer, the front door in sight, the hall behind them echoed the soft click of his father's walking stick. Lucius Malfoy rounded the corner, scowling at his son before him. "Where do you think you are going, Draco?" he drawled.

Draco stopped, turning around to meet the eyes of the man who raised him. "Out the front door, Father," he said.

"You'd give up all this," his father said, "for her?"

"For Hermione," Draco started, "I'd give up anything." His father stared at him in silence, shocked at his admission. Draco shrugged his shoulders, before slowly turning back around. As he went to step over the threshold, the sound of his mother's heels racing against the floor made him hesitate. He looked over his shoulder and saw his mother standing beside his father, out of breath with tears running down her face.

"Draco," she whispered. "Don't go."

"I'm sorry, mother," he said, blinking back his own tears. "I have to."

He let out a shaky breath, and squared his shoulder; then, he walked out the front door.


End file.
